Pregnancy

My Labor Was Just Like A Kooky Birth Scene From A Romantic Comedy — Unfortunately

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We finally get to the hospital. We walk into the labor and delivery emergency room. As you can imagine, it is filled with people in the same situation as I am – having labor and delivery emergencies. My mother is screaming Somebody help my daughter! She barges into an admitting room, where they are helping another woman in labor. You’d think I was riddled with gunshots. They shoo us out. We wait our turn.

I’m finally in an observation room, and I figure this would be a good time to call my husband. It goes to voicemail. Again. And again. And again. I am becoming irate. I am a week overdue, why the fuck is his phone off? So I call my sister and ask her to please get him on the phone and give him directions to the hospital. Tenth Avenue between 48th and 49th. She gets him on the phone and delivers the message. I see my mother in the hall, praying her ass off. I’m anxiously awaiting the arrival of my husband.

This would be a good time to tell you that the birthing center where I intended to deliver is in Brooklyn. All of our prenatal appointments, ultrasounds, and even birthing classes have been in Brooklyn. Naturally, the hospital that serves as a backup to the birthing center in case there is an emergency is – you guessed it – in Brooklyn.

My phone rings. It’s my husband.

Husband: Hey! Are you okay? Where is this hospital? I’m here and I don’t see it.

Me: What do you mean you don’t see it? It’s a giant hospital. It takes up like, three city blocks. Kinda hard to miss.

H: I just passed the Javits Center. Is it near there?

M: What the hell are you talking about about? The Javits Center? In Manhattan? You’re in Manhattan? WHY THE HELL ARE YOU IN MANHATTAN?

H: Your sister said Tenth Aven-

M: Tenth Avenue in Brooklyn! Where we live! Where we have been going for ALL of our prenatal care! Why are you in the city?

H: I thought-

M: Stop talking. Just get here.

H: I don’t have any money.

M: What do you mean you don’t have any money?

H: I forgot my wallet. And my Metrocard is empty. I’m going to start walking now.

M: You’re walking. Walking? From Midtown? Into deep Brooklyn? Are you serious?

H: I’ll be there as soon as I can.

Oh my God. My mother is praying and crying in the hall. My midwife isn’t here yet. I’m going to have to do this alone. And I can’t remember any of those stupid hypnobirthing chants. I’m totally screwed.

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